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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660859">but baby I'm half doomed (and they're semi-sweet)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catoptric_lunarian/pseuds/catoptric_lunarian'>catoptric_lunarian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hold Me Tight [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cutagens | Cute Effects of Mutagens (The Witcher), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Light Angst, M/M, but like a little sad? Dramagens? I don't know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:40:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catoptric_lunarian/pseuds/catoptric_lunarian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Cats. Crazy fuckers, right? Cold and apathetic one second, blindly, murderously furious the next; don’t give two shits about you until they decide they need you. Bad mutagens does not stable witchers make. Simple. Except... it’s a little more complicated than that...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Aiden's fine — perfectly fine, indulging his lover's desire to go home for the winter but as usual <em>feelings</em> (the little bastards) get in the way of an alright thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden &amp; Vesemir (The Witcher), Aiden/Eskel (The Witcher), Aiden/Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Aiden/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Lambert &amp; Vesemir (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hold Me Tight [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>198</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>but baby I'm half doomed (and they're semi-sweet)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Cats. Crazy fuckers, right? Terribly cold and apathetic one second, blindly, murderously furious the next; don’t give two shits about you until they decide they <em>need</em> you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bad mutagens does not stable witchers make</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Simple. Except... it’s a little more complicated than just extreme self-involvement. Cat’s have this... thing — this other thing — where they... Well it’s a little embarrassing to say but, when they’re close to someone, as in </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> close — when they </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone —  they sort of — maybe — sometimes start absorbing that someone’s emotions. Sort of. There, alright? I said it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s why they don’t get too close to each other, why they can’t stay with the caravan more than a few weeks at a time — it’s dangerous, having that much crazy all in one place, feeding off each other like a tangled system of manic feedback loops, one spark away from exploding. It’s why Aiden was so reluctant to get close to Lambert to begin with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Baby Wolf was persistent, dogged in his attempts to get closer to the older witcher. Fresh out of Kaer Morhen, following him around with wide-eyed adoration. He was devilishly quick witted, his humour sharp, and biting. Aiden would’ve thought him a right proper dickhead if he didn’t always have the most endearing little smirk every time he made a smart remark. Eventually Aiden figured, what could be better for a psycho cat than a happy puppy? Besides, he didn’t <em>know</em> he was going to fall in love, did he? And at any rate, Lambert was a Wolf. Stable to a fault, right? They had that whole repression thing down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time it happened, they hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, and though he wouldn’t admit it, Aiden was practically vibrating with the excitement of seeing the man he had already come to think of as his. He got a room in the appointed inn in the appointed town, ordered a bath for himself, then another for Lambert, and he waited. The water turned lukewarm, then cold. The sun dipped beyond the horizon and more distant stars came out to pierce the pitch night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t worried, not yet. He knew full well that any number of things could delay a witcher. It certainly didn’t warrant getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span> over, so you can imagine his surprise when he started seeing red — literally, the edges of his vision tinged with blood. It happened so quickly; he caught the scent of his dearest friend, the usually warm, milky smell burnt and acerbic; Lambert burst into the room, the door banging against the wall as he threw down his bags, fuming about the villagers in the last town. Aiden didn’t get to hear the rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert complaining wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, far from it, in fact. So you can imagine Aiden’s surprise when he suddenly found himself with his hand around the young Wolf’s throat, pinning him against the wall. The look it earned him broke his twice-damned, shrivelled heart. But it helped — Lambert’s sadness. It wormed its way through the anger, slowing the drumming in his ears and washing his nerves with blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you,” he gritted out slowly, breathing heavily, struggling to speak, “to calm down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert nodded, or tried to. And a moment later he squeaked out softly, “Aiden, what are you doing?” The broken pieces in his chest, and the last traces of anger were swept away by a surge of abject misery. His fingers loosened their grip, and the young Wolf that could no longer be his dropped to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck—”  Aiden breathed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he tried to stop his body from shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden what happened?” He sounded so small, so scared, fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>concerned </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him even now. And Aiden couldn’t just hear and smell it, he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>it; every ounces if his turmoil was saturating Aiden’s bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gezras said this could happen—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden, what are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should go—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Don’t— don’t go Aiden, please stay.”  It was too much, his sadness, it was fucking overwhelming, and Aiden had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> something to make it stop. Just like earlier his body surged forward without warning, only this time his arms wrapped around Lambert, holding them together as if letting go would surely lead to some fate worse than death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said, as he rocked them gently back and forth, the words ruffling Lambert’s hair. “I’m so sorry Lambert, I didn’t mean it. Please believe me, please know that I didn’t mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that night, when they’d eaten, and Lambert had had his bath, and they were both themselves again, they sat in the bed and Aiden told all — told him all about the monster he was under his skin, but all Lambert heard was— “You love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Aiden knew that he was in deep shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.o.O.o.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They learnt quickly because they had to. Lambert wouldn’t fucking leave and Aiden would rather feed himself to a chort than hurt him again (though of course, the insufferable bastard insisted he was never hurt in the first place.) Since he knew to expect it now, Aiden learnt that he could distinguish Lambert’s emotions from his own, like there was a little tag at the end of each thread, and the more time went on the easier it was to find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice, in a way — he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> how happy Lambert was when they brushed hands, or when he called him Baby Wolf (even though he insisted he hated it), like skeins of sunshine coiled around his veins (and it truly took their ah — more intimate activities to a whole other level.) When Lambert was sad, all Aiden wanted to do was make it better, which was usually easy enough— all Aiden had to do was love him. But it was the anger, and the frustration that was the hardest, because Lambert had a lot of it and Aiden wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span> then too, but oftentimes the only target nearby was Baby Wolf himself. So they learnt; Aiden learnt how to touch and talk to him to him melt, and Lambert learnt to let go, and more often than not they ended up finding some quiet corner of the world where Lambert could rest his head on his Cat’s thigh, and Aiden would stroke his hair and reminded him of everything good in their lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it was fine. They were fine — they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>good.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Until, of course, one year Lambert turned those big, yellow eyes on him, and asked Aiden to follow him home for the winter. Those eyes the colour of butter on a noble’s table, or the silk robes of a long ago Ofirian emperor, framed with long, thick, black eyelashes. Aiden would follow those eyes anywhere, and follow he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first winter was tolerable, the second more… interesting, the third was, well —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In hindsight, Lambert probably knew it was happening before he did. It started, oddly enough, with Eskel, and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a few weeks into their annual residence at the Wolves ancestral home, and things were proceeding as they usually did; they trained, they did chores, they ate and drank and played Gwent;  they took an excess of baths and spent every minute leftover lounging on warm surfaces (that is, Lambert and Aiden spent their spare time draped over Eskel and Geralt — lounging, not… snuggling, or anything.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Eskel started doing that thing he always does, where he stops spending so much time with them, choosing instead to walk listlessly around the Keep’s abandoned, crumbling halls. Aiden asked Lambert about it that first year, and Baby Wolf told him to just leave it, that the other man will be alright in a week or so. So Aiden did, and didn’t think any more of it, and true enough it was only a matter of days before he came back to them. But this year, Aiden seemed to experience a bout of melancholia that coincided precisely with Bear Wolf’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt before; this misshapen, leaden weight that sat uncomfortably in his chest, pressing against his heart, his lungs. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it didn’t feel so bad when he was with the other man — misery shared and all that. So Aiden spent a full day following him around. He kept a respectful distance of course, until, sitting in the library, Aiden hiding behind a bookshelf, the larger man finally beckoned him over with an exasperated sigh. Aiden scampered over and climbed up onto his lap, slinging his arms around his neck and pressing close. With his nose against his neck, Aiden breathed in Eskel’s sadness until it became him, but he liked to believe that there was relief in proximity for the both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Kitty?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like it when you’re sad,” Aiden replied, because it was true enough, and because he himself had no reason to feel this blue. Eskel's arms were already wrapped around his body, his hand running slowly up and down Aiden’s slender back, but he held him tighter then, immeasurably touched by this unprecedented show of open attachment. Aiden held tighter too, and the tension in Eskel’s chest eased just enough to make breathing easy again, and he gulped in lungfuls of that scent like orange blossoms, patchouli, and sun that had become as familiar to him as Lambert's and Geralt’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For days after, Aiden stuck to Bear Wolf, quite literally; always in his lap or hanging off his back. Eskel didn’t seem to mind the intrusion. In fact, there was once or twice when the other Wolves caught a smile blight his annual sulk. More than content to spend the days with Lambert in his arms, Geralt watched the two of them with fond bemusement, but Lambert thought there was something knowing in the gleam of Vesemir’s eyes, and the slant of his lips. And Lambert knew too, of course; he could see what was happening as clearly as he saw the  shimmer of white stones at the bottom of the Gwenllech. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel finally saw it days later, as he stood at the window of Geralt’s room, watching the stars move across an ink blue sky. The frigid air bit at the tight, dry skin of his scarred cheek, and gnawed at the once shattered bones. It was always worse the colder it got. Lambert made him a balm to help with the pain— beeswax and oil infused with celandine, thyme and lavender, but he hadn’t put it on for a few days, the neglect an integral part of his self-flagellation. But it was selfish, because every year without fail either Lambert or Geralt would come up to him, on a night like this, tin in hand. They would stand in front of him, close enough that every move saw their bodies brush. Tender fingers would soothe his face as their eyes firmly held his— </span>
  <em>
    <span>no arguments, that’s enough now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he would know in that moment that they loved him, even when he couldn’t see why.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theirs were not the footsteps he heard that night though, no. The person slinking to him in the dark had a much lighter tread, and a recently acquired penchant for curling around his back like a shadow. Lean arms wrapped around his waist, Aiden’s breath ghosting over his skin as he pressed a kiss onto his bare shoulder before resting his cheek against the muscle.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come back to bed?” he mewled, half asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a minute,” Bear Wolf replied, rumbling like his namesake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” Aiden insisted, tugging him back ineffectually. Eskel he chuckled as he turned around in the circle of the Cat’s arms, so that they were face to face. Aiden pulled a familiar little tin out from his pocket, and deftly pried the lid off. “You haven’t been using this,” he whispered as he dipped his fingers into the waxy contents, and though his voice was soft, he sounded distinctly annoyed. He wasn’t as gentle as Lambert and Geralt either, practically prodding at him as he smeared the balm into his scarred flesh. But when he was done, he stood on his toes and delicately kissed his cheek. “Better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Bear Wolf growled as he lifted the smaller man easily off the ground. Aiden’s feet dangled the few steps before Eskel tossed him back onto the mound of furs and pillows on the large bed. The bigger man fell on top of him, arms bracketing his head, their eyes locked. “Thank you, Kitty,” Eskel said, and kissed him, and kissed him some more. In the morning, when he woke, the only weight on his chest was that of the purring body half sprawled on his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.o.O.o.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Every fucking winter</span>
  </em>
  <span> this happened, according to Eskel, anyway. Or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>every fucking winter since he met the bloody bard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to be precise. You’d think Wolf Wolf would have learnt by now but, well, as far as Aiden could tell, this was a bit of a blind spot for both of them. It’s not like those two didn’t argue all the time anyway —  it’s just what happens when one person is, at their core, a devilishly handsome rogue, and the other is still, under their cold, hardened steel veneer, a little boy dreaming of being a knight. But this was different. This wasn’t squabbling about how a contract was handled or the acceptable uses of axii. This was Lambert bleeding hurt while Geralt rolled his eyes and looked away.</span>
  <span>Or so Aiden had thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all saw it coming; on the piss the night before, Geralt regaled them with tales of every instance he had to save his friend after he’d tumbled arse over tea kettle into some trouble or other.  Lambert laughed along with everyone else — he always did, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking hilarious, but as the night wore on Aiden could feel his jealousy; the tug of sadness, the acidic burn of anger. Later, when Geralt tried to pull Lambert down next to him to sleep, he jerked out of the older man’s grasp and curled into Eskel’s chest. The pulling feeling in his chest grew stronger, but it didn’t feel like just Lambert. Made sense — the look on Wolf Wolf’s face was fucking heartbreaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was just as heartbreaking at breakfast the following morning, when Geralt tried to kiss Lambert’s head and he ducked, and then when Geralt asked Lambert how he slept and Lambert sneered and said, “Next to Eskel? Like a baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aiden</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew what was going on, could feel the insidious ropes of envy coil up his blood vessels and wrap around his heart. He knew there was nothing for it but to wait until Bear Wolf pulled Lambert aside, and told him enough was enough, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>watching </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was always hard, and Aiden could never help but feel angry at Geralt on Baby Wolf’s behalf. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span> winter, however, he was torn, because now that he thought about it, Lambert’s vitriol looked senseless, and Geralt, well, like I said, it was heartbreaking. And just like with Eskel only weeks before, Aiden felt a tug in his chest, drawing him closer to the other man. So every time Lambert blatantly ignored him, or threw out another barbed remark, the Cat pressed closer to Geralt’s side, or squeezed his leg, or his hand, or gave his neck a quick lick, and when they were at rest he curled into his chest, and played with his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was this <em>feeling</em> that woke him, just as the sun peered over the mountain tops. It had only been two days since Lambert reignited his yearly campaign against Geralt’s affections, but when Aiden found the White Wolf sitting on the edge of a broken balcony, he looked like he’d been at war for two decades. Aiden padded over, just loud enough enough that the other man would hear him coming, and sat close at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another day in paradise?” He greeted, only half joking. It was a breathtaking view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Aiden said nothing, only sat there, unmoving, his arm pressed against Geralt’s, showing him that he wasn’t going anywhere</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I don’t know why he hates me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t hate you.” Geralt scoffed. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s just, you know, jealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jealous?” he repeated, his voice pitched with genuine confusion. The idea alone apparently enough to shock him out of his brooding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you know, jealous, envious, resentful, bitter, spiteful, green-eyed—?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your bard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Geralt blinked at him, clearly still not getting the picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He thinks you love the bard more than him, or you don’t love him at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would he think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The way you talk about him… sounds like you love him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Wolf Wolf said defensively, earning himself a skeptical look from Aiden. “Alright maybe I do, but it’s not the same. I don’t love him like I love Lambert, and I only tell those stories because they’re funny.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>To make him laugh, to make all of you laugh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, clearly he doesn’t know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Geralt half hummed, half grunted, considering his relationship with Baby Wolf under this new light as the slowly peered over the mountains, tinging the world a rosy pink. Heading the siren call of porridge and honey, they went down for breakfast, Aiden riding on Geralt’s back, face tucked into his neck. When they entered the kitchen, he hopped off with a quick lick, and Wolf Wolf slid in behind Lambert, and held him tight, and kissed his cheek, and said “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden felt something warm and glowing flutter under his skin, and Lambert’s cheeks blushed pink, and he whispered “I love you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.o.O.o.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They learnt quickly, Aiden and Lambert, because they had to, because they weren’t going to be the sort of people who hurt the ines who loved them most. Aiden learnt to differentiate Lambert’s emotions from his, and Baby Wolf always let Aiden gentle him when he needed to. It wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t care for the alternative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it worked, mostly. There was one, glaring exception: As soon as the faintest breath of spring flit across the mountain, something dark, and acerbic began to stir deep inside Lambert, and the more he tried to keep it down the sicker Aiden felt. There was nothing he could do, you see. No amount of petting or kissing or sweet nothings could fix it. No, this was pure Wolfish dickheadedness, and the Cat was powerless to it, and it didn’t go away until weeks after they were back on the Path, and Lambert’s anger at having to miss his brothers faded into dull, aching misery. Then he would crawl onto Aiden’s bedroll, into his arms, and Aiden would tell him that next winter wasn’t so far away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He used to say it without really meaning it, because he relished in the fact that for most of the year he got Baby Wolf all to himself. But after </span>
  <em>
    <span>seeing</span>
  </em>
  <span> him with Bear Wolf and Wolf Wolf, understanding exactly what they were to his lover, he meant it. Last spring there was a curious moment when it was like he said it for himself too — like he needed to believe it too. And this year — </span>
  <em>
    <span>this year </span>
  </em>
  <span>was so much worse, because he realised that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt it, that dread at having to be apart for so long. Fucking stupid really. He and Baby Wolf were together more than they were apart and it wasn’t like the fucking sky started falling down around them. No — the only thing keeping from them seeing each other more was some fucking outdated </span>
  <em>
    <span>bullshit</span>
  </em>
  <span> ideology handed down to them by a bunch of sanctimonious </span>
  <em>
    <span>pricks</span>
  </em>
  <span> who weren’t even alive, and it was making them </span>
  <em>
    <span>miserable</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so much so that Aiden’s body trembled with the force of their longing and love and frustration. He —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden?” Lambert softly called. His Cat had been missing for the better part of the day, and now he found him on the floor of a long abandoned hallway, shivering in his braes, his knees drawn up to his chest. “Babe?” He padded closer, cautiously, weary of the scorching rage rolling off of him and crashing into Lambert’s nose, so thick it almost burned his skin. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He crouched down next to him, tentatively brought a hand to the other man’s trembling back. He caught the faint scent of Eskel and Geralt behind him, at the end of the hallway from where he himself had just come; they must have followed their noses too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all… so stupid.” Aiden gritted out, his jaw clenched so tight he was close to cracking his teeth. “So stupid,” he growled, louder this time, “so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every year. Every </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all so miserable,” Aiden breathed as he threw himself at Lambert, flinging his arms around his neck and pulling him close with his fingers tangled in his hair, crying on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get Vesemir.” Lambert heard as he held his lover close, cradling his head and gently rocking back and forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay Aiden,” he murmured, lips pressed against soft black hair, his face buried in it. The cold dampness of Aiden’s scent overwhelmed him, but he stayed there, just like that, feeling the fine trembles of his Cat’s body everywhere they touched. “It’s okay, we’re all okay,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>please don’t be sad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but Aiden was still shaking when he heard Vesemir approach, accompanied, by the tell-tale jangle of a tea tray. The other two Wolves were still lingering by the mouth of the hallway, but their elder beckoned them over then, and they came, worry plastered on their faces, evident in every taught line and bunched angle of their bodies.  Following his suit, the knelt down at a respectful distance from the youngest of them — their youngest, and watched the old man and his tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir poured five mugs of strong chamomile tea, stirring in a healthy portion of honey into each one. “Him too,” he said as he passed a cup to Lambert, gesturing to the man in his arms who, still clinging to him, had not yet looked up. Lambert nudged him gently, until wide, vulnerable eyes met his from under dark, fluttering eyelashes, and brought the steaming drink to his lips. They shared two cups between them, and as Lambert felt the tea work its way through his blood stream, like a liquid blanket coating his nerves, he felt Aiden become slowly still. The effect multiplied five-fold, it was only shortly after his last sip that Aiden’s eyes slid shut, and his body went limp against Lambert’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neat trick,” the young Wolf commented, looking upon the relaxed face of his sleeping lover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, one does learn things,” Vesemir said, an evasive smile in the quirk of his lip. “You should get him into a bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert nodded his agreement, carefully manoeuvred Aiden’s body so that he was cradled like a bride in his arms, and carried him to his room, scarcely used since the beginning of winter. He laid Aiden down on the bed, and made quick work of lighting a fire before crawling in to join him, pulling layers and layers of fur over them until they were swaddled in a cocoon of body heat. His bed was smaller than Geralt’s, but it was enough for the two of them to lay side-by-side, with Aiden’s head resting on Lambert’s shoulder, his mouth hanging open in that terribly endearing way it did when there was nothing left in him. And Lambert held him, and carded his fingers through his hair, and waited for him to wake up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.o.O.o.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost supper when Aiden stirred, the sun long swallowed by the distant sea, far beyond the mountains, and Lambert was still there, holding him. His head was on Lambert’s chest, his ear pressed against his ribs, and he could feel the slow, steady beating of his heart, hear his life’s blood coursing through his veins. Rubbing an eye with a loose fist, he opened his dry, sticky mouth a few times, sitting up at Lambert’s gentle prompting. There was a tankard of water almost immediately at his lips, and he didn’t take it as he gulped it down, instead resting on his hands and looking up at his sweet Baby Wolf with his almost black, mussed up waves he spent so many hours finding any excuse to get his hands on, and pale brown skin so much like his own. He didn’t speak as he laid back on the pillow, and looked up at the man he loved so desperately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’re you feeling?”</span>
</p><p><span>Aiden searched for the thread with Lambert’s name, letting it run through his fingers as he considered its weight and texture. There was none of that sadness-turned-anger from earlier, only concern. “Better,” he replied;</span> <span>better now that it was just the two of them, better now that he knew what was happening</span><em><span>. </span></em><span>Didn’t mean he wasn’t embarrassed. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Hey, none of that now.” Baby Wolf slid down on the bed, taking Aiden’s blushing face in his hand, smoothing a thumb over his cheek; his golden, tawny skin interrupted only by the pale line of a sweeping scar. Aiden always forgot — even without the fucked up mutagens, Lambert could still read him, scent him. “What’s wrong? Lambert spoke softly. The hand on Aiden’s face moved down to rub his stomach, the other tugging lightly at his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to love them.” He sounded so small — </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked </span>
  </em>
  <span>small too. It was unusual, a bit of a roll reversal, but Lambert could take care of his lover as well he took care of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, I love them too don’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s it not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, because, you’re family, and I’m—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re family too,” Lambert said firmly, “you’re my family, so you’re their family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if they don’t love me back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They will — they </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he added teasingly, “but Geralt’s had it on for you since the day you met.” Aiden didn’t look convinced. He shoved his head under Lambert’s chin, squirming closer, and Lambert rubbed his back, and pressed his lips into his inky black hair. “You’ll see,” he whispered, <em>you'll see what I see.</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mulled wine, cured meats, hard cheese, and soft, fresh bread were laid out on the table when they got to the kitchen a short while later. The other Wolves were still hovering around the table, just about to sit down to their meal. Aiden trailed behind Lambert, pulled along by their joined hands — the only thing keeping him from bolting, or floating away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel them, their worry, as he drew nearer. It was taught, brittle, and vibrated at a frequency so high as to be piercing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep well?” Geralt asked, the first to find his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wolf Wolf stepped closer, making as if to embrace him, but Aiden shrunk back. The hurt was apparent on the other man’s face — and it was as hope-inspiring as it was heartbreaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vesemir told us about your — about what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weird way to find out someone loves you,” Eskel blurted out, his face immediately warming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden kept his eyes cast down, boring into the flagstones, wringing his hands behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weird way to find out someone loves you <em>back</em>,” Gerat amended. Aiden looked up to find Wolf Wolf watching him, with that forlorn, puppy dog look of which they were all masters. He rushed at him only to be caught, as he knew he would be, by strong arms wrapping around his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to be sorry for.” Geralt pressed a kiss onto his crown and Eskel moved in to rub Aiden’s back, then turned his head to the side so he could kiss his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lambert watched as three of the most important people in his life grew that much closer. A warm, familiar hand fell on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Vesmeir standing behind him, watching as well. Placing his own hand on top of Papa Wolf’s, he pressed into the familiar torso at his back. “They really love each other?” he asked hopefully, quietly, not wanting to break the enchantment of the scene before them</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I should think so,” Papa Wolf answered, wrapping a thick arm around Baby Wolf’s middle with an affectionate squeeze. “Are you happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden’s nerves were too frayed to be around the other Wolves for long, so after a modest supper — hearty food, easy conversation, earlier events not forgotten, but set aside out of respect from the Cat’s evident exhaustion (his limbs heavy, his eyes half-lidded and watery,) he and Lambert went back to the latter’s room. Aiden curled onto Baby Wolf’s chest, and let the love of his life hold him tight, until the farthest stars drifted their course, over the edge of the world, and the sun gazed upon them once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They dove into the big bed again the next night, as had become customary. Only this time Lambert left Aiden to wriggle his way between the two larger Wolves, so they could pet and coo and fuss of his — their Cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you so upset yesterday?” Geralt whispered, scratching behind Aiden’s ear and stroking a thumb over his cheek. “You said we were all miserable. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Aiden answered, his tone almost pleading. Eskel had an arm draped over his waist, and he squeezed him closer then, nuzzling into the back of his neck. “You all detest being apart from each other, but you never make any effort to see each other during the year. It’s ridiculous. There are no rules against it you know.”  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not that it should matter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hummed consideringly, and leaned in to kiss and lick at the fine hair between Aiden’s brows until the smaller man’s purr filled what little air there was between them, and vibrated in his bones. Eskel clearly felt it too, because soon after, his own deep, contented rumble joined Aiden's. Lambert responded in kind not long after. “I suppose you’re right,” Geralt said at last, barely suppressing a laugh. “We should fix that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think, Little Wolf?” Eskel asked as he twisted around, picking up the smallest Wolf up and depositing him in his rightful place, at their centre. “Will you get sick of us if we saw you on the Path too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said simply, wide, golden eyes soft and vulnerable as he looked into Bear Wolf's. “Could never get sick of you.” Eskel smiled as he pulled his youngest love to his chest. The air quivered with the quiet song of their shared bliss, and like the rush of waves crashing against a cliff face, it lulled them all to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when they left that spring, there was none of that bitter, desperate longing pulling them to pieces, but a sort of  anticipation — excitement even, as they clarified one last time, then again, when and where they’d see each other next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except — there was still a certain sadness, tugging at Aiden’s heartstrings, and he followed it, turning around until his eyes met with Papa Wolf’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll miss them,” he stated, leaving no room for argument or obfuscation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir wouldn’t have tried — there was no point. “Every year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell Guxart to hurry up, shall I?” Aiden responded with a cheeky grin, so strikingly familiar Vesemir couldn’t help but grab the young tomcat by the scruff and pull him in for a rough hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wonder you’re his favourite,” he rumbled in Aiden’s ear, slapping him on the back. Instead of letting go completely, he took the young Witcher but the shoulders, “They’re good to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Aiden said, that smile still wide across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you next year, you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t miss it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments and kudos are always appreciated ♥︎</p></blockquote></div></div>
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